Time To Say Goodbye
by PeteM
Summary: Xander says goodbye. Angst. Character death.


  
TITLE: Time To Say Goodbye  
AUTHOR: Peter Meilinger  
SUMMARY: Xander says goodbye. Angst. Character death.  
TIMELINE: Future.  
SPOILERS: None, I don't think.  
RATING: R, for language, themes, and description of violence.  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters, and I'm not trying to profit from this story.  
DEDICATION: To Vic, Meg, Jen and Dot, for making me write angst.  
NOTE: This definitely isn't my usual happy-happy mush-fest. You've been warned.  
  
****  
  
The long-range perimeter alarms just went off. I don't have much time, but I don't need much. Just enough time to say goodbye.  
  
I turn to the pictures I've had lined up on the console for the last week. Do it in order, I guess.  
  
First is the picture Cordelia sent me last year, her and the Cordettes, as she called them, out on the town somewhere. He's not in it, of course. He was never one to socialize. I let my eyes scan the three laughing, smiling friends.  
  
Gunn. I never knew you, never even met you. Cordy liked you, though, and that's good enough for me. You deserved better.  
  
Wesley. Who'd have thought that you'd actually turn out to be worth a damn? Worth a whole lot, to have heard Cordy tell it. I wish I'd treated you better, man.  
  
Cordelia. Oh God, Cordy. I didn't even realize how much I loved you until you were gone. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I think you were better off without me, but I wish we could've stayed closer than we did. I wish I could've saved you.  
  
I know I shouldn't beat myself up like this. None of us knew what the hell was going on when he called and told us Cordy, Gunn and Wesley had been killed. But I should have known, dammit. I should have known not to trust him.  
  
No. No time for this. Too many more goodbyes to get through.  
  
I turn to the next picture. Anya and Tara together at the magic shop. It's not the best picture of them, but it fits since they died together. They never really liked each other, but they tried for me and Willow. And they got along well enough by the end. When we found them, they were holding hands. The blood trails showed they both crawled to meet halfway. Probably trying to help each  
other. At least they didn't die alone.   
  
No, don't think about that. Think about when they were alive.  
  
Tara. I hope you knew how much I liked you. I've never been good at showing that stuff, and you were so shy that I didn't make the effort like I should have. I did like you, though. I liked you a lot. You were smart, and funny, and cute. I loved your smile. It lit up the whole room. And you were good for Will. You were so good to her. She loved you so much.  
  
Anya. I love you. I'm so glad you knew that. I couldn't protect you when it mattered, but at least you knew I loved you. The way you always smiled as soon as you saw me. The way you never minded when I had to touch you, just to make sure you were real. God, I love you. Not that you didn't get on my nerves from time to time. But hell, you had to put up with me. I'd say we were even. I miss you. Every day, every minute, every second, I miss you.  
  
I don't have time to cry, dammit. Pull it together. I wipe away the tears and move on to the next picture.  
  
I took this one myself, at that picnic we had at the state park a few months ago. Giles is laughing at some story Buffy was telling. He never laughed enough. When he laughed, all of the stress and the worry just disappeared. I'm glad I got to see him laugh like that one last time before all this happened.  
  
You're the father I never had, Giles. I hope to hell you knew that. I looked up to you. I wanted to be you. Not the book-learning parts, that's not for me. The maturity, the sense of purpose, the determination to do what's right, no matter what the cost. If I'm even half the man you were, I'll count myself the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet. I love you, Giles. I wish I'd told you that while you were alive.  
  
I wish I'd figured out what was going on in time to save you. But after Anya and Tara died, I was a mess. That's no excuse, though. When we found you, dead without even putting up a fight, we should've known. No way would you die that easily unless you were tricked. We should've known. I should've known. I'm sorry.  
  
Damn. More tears. I thought I was all cried out. Ignore them, you're almost done. I move on to the next picture.  
  
Willow. Oh, God, Willow. I remember when your father took this picture of us. It was your seventh birthday party. Your dad pulled out the camera and you ran up and grabbed me, dragged me over to get my picture taken with you. That smile on your face, that's what I lived for. No matter how bad things got, no matter how much I wanted to just give up, all you had to do was smile at me and everything would be all right. God, I wish I could see you smile again...  
  
I don't even try to stop the sobs that wrack my body. It wouldn't do any good, anyway. My Willow's gone. She's dead. She invited him into her room and he killed her. I should've been there, Willow. I'm so sorry I wasn't there to save you. I was out patrolling with Buffy when I should've been there to protect you.   
  
I just want to curl up into a ball and cry. But I can't. I have to kill him first. I'll kill him for you, Will, I swear I will.   
  
I wipe at my eyes and look back at her picture. It's so easy to forget she's gone, so easy to remember the good times. It'd be so easy to lose myself in the memories, but I can't. I give myself a few seconds to remember her - the way her hair would shine in the sun, the way her laughter would pull me out of whatever funk I was in, the way her nose would scrunch up when she was thinking. I love you, Willow, I always loved every single thing about you.  
  
No more time. I turn to the last picture.  
  
Buffy. I'm not sure when this picture was taken, actually. It's you in the library, asleep at the table. You were always so beautiful when you slept. Hell, you were beautiful all the time, but I especially liked to watch you when you slept. It was like the weight of the world was off your shoulders. When you slept was the only time you could really relax. I tried to take some of that weight off, Buffy. We all did. And we managed it, I know we did. But it was never enough. We tried, though. We loved you and we tried. I love you, Buffy, and I tried. I hope it was enough.  
  
You shouldn't be dead. It should be you standing here waiting to end it, not me. I told you to skip patrol, but you never listened to me. And this time, it killed you.  
  
No. He killed you. As soon as I realized you'd gone out patrolling, I ran after you. I'm sorry I didn't get there in time, Buffy. I tried, I swear I tried. You must have surprised him or something. I know he didn't want to kill you that night. He'd have killed me first, saved you for last, if you hadn't found him. And you must have hurt him bad. The amount of damage it took to kill you, there's no way you didn't hurt him almost as badly as he hurt you. That's the only thing that saved me that night, Buffy. You're the only reason I'm still alive. You're the only reason he's going to die.  
  
I'm crying again, but I don't care. They're good tears now. They give me the strength to do what I need to do.   
  
You died in my arms, Buffy. I don't know if you even realized I was there. You were pretty out of it. I don't think you could see or hear by the end, but I held you. I held you and I didn't let go. I swear I didn't let go of you, Buffy. You didn't die alone. I know that's what you were always afraid of, that you'd die alone some dark night, and no one would know you were gone. But I was there, Buffy. I was there, and you didn't die alone.  
  
You knew I was there, didn't you? You were too weak to move, too weak to talk, even. But you knew I was there, and you used your last breath to warn me, to tell me who it was that killed you. Who it was that killed everyone I ever loved.  
  
Angel.  
  
***  
  
He's here.  
  
Roof alarm just went off. He's coming from up top. Of course. Too damned stupid to come through the front door, I guess. He probably thinks he's gonna take me by surprise. Let him think that. Let him think whatever he wants.  
  
I take a breath to center myself and wipe away the last of my tears. No more time for crying, now. That's okay. It'll all be over soon. I smile at the pictures while I wait.  
  
It's almost like I can read his mind. I know exactly what he's doing and thinking. Figure he's inside the building now, looking down into the warehouse from the ceiling. It's dark, but he can see fine. Nothing in the main room except some old crates and the forklift. 'But wait, what's that concrete room in the corner? Why, I'll bet that's where Xander's hiding. Maybe I'll go sneak in and say hello...'  
  
Damn, I'm good. Last perimeter just went off. He's coming in through the ceiling instead of the door. He's definitely got some issues with the easy way, I guess. Probably afraid I've trapped the doors. What an idiot. Still, at least now I can seal the doorway. I reach over and flip the switch that turns on the electromagnet set into the doorframe. No one's leaving anytime soon.  
  
I blow out a nervous breath and wink at the pictures.  
  
"Showtime, guys. Watch my back."  
  
I turn to face the room. And I wait. But not for long.  
  
I look up at the trapdoor in the far corner when the first crash comes. That's the only way in through the ceiling. That should tip him off, but it won't. Moron.  
  
Strong, though. It only takes him three blows to pound the door off its hinges and send it crashing to the floor. That door's solid steel, and it makes a helluva racket when it falls thirty feet onto the concrete.  
  
He follows it down, landing like a cat. Ceiling's too high for him to jump back up. That should be another tip-off. But it isn't. This is almost too easy.  
  
He turns and looks at me, as his features shift into his demon face.  
  
"Harris. Nice place you've got here. Stinks, though. What do they keep out there, rotten fish?" He takes an exaggerated sniff of the air and looks at the crates lined up along the walls. "And what's in here, coffee? Never took you for a java man." I think this is his idea of small talk. He's not as good at it as Spike always was, though. Maybe he knows that, because he stops and turns to me. He smiles, baring his fangs.  
  
I smile back and slip my left hand into my pocket.  
  
"Yeah. Coffee in here, fish out there." Which means you can't smell anything else, dumbass. But that would never occur to you, would it? Your loss. "So," I ask, "how did you know I was here?"  
  
"Let's just say a little bird told me I could find you here."  
  
I nod calmly. I've been here a week. Took you long enough. Ah, well. "You found me, all right. Too bad for you."  
  
His smile grows wider, taunting. He thinks I'm bluffing.  
  
"Too bad for one of us," he agrees. "But I don't think it's me. I know you must have some kind of plan, but it won't do you any good. You think you're going to make everything right. You think you're going to avenge their deaths. But you're wrong. You're not walking away from this one, Harris. I win." His smile is mocking me now, a hateful leer.  
  
I laugh. I can't help it. He still hasn't figured it out. His smile twists into a growl of anger, and I laugh even harder. It feels good to laugh one last time.   
  
He's moving towards me now, his anger overcoming his sadistic urge to draw it out. I hold up my hand to stop him. I'm not done yet. "Hold on," I say. He stops, curious to hear what I have to say. I chuckle one last time before continuing. "Sorry about that. I just can't believe you haven't figured it out yet, you asshole."  
  
Now, he's confused. He doesn't know what I mean and he doesn't like it. As dumb as he is, you'd think he'd have gotten used to the feeling by now, but I guess not.  
  
"Figured what out?" he asks. Before I can answer, he goes on. "No, don't tell me. I don't care. I know everything I need to know." He bares his teeth at me and licks his fangs. "I know how they died, Harris. Do you want to know how they died?"  
  
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I can't let him get to me. Can't let him get to me. Think of them when they were alive...  
  
That does it. I open my eyes and look at him. "I don't need to know how they died, Angelus. I know how they lived."  
  
He doesn't like that answer. Go figure. But he thinks he's still got all the cards, so he starts to tell me anyway. "Gunn and Wesley, you probably don't care about. But Cordelia, oh, I think you'll want to hear about her..."  
  
I don't. I cut him off with, "Do you want to know how you're going to die?"  
  
That gets his attention. He smiles again and gives me a small bow. "Of course! I'd love to hear the best plan that the brilliant mind of Alexander Harris could come up with to rid the Earth of the scourge that is Angelus! Let me guess, you've got a grenade in your pocket there?" he asks, pointing at my left hand. "Either that, or you're just happy to see me." He cackles again.  
  
I laugh with him, then pull my hand out of my pocket. I show him the detonator, but I'm careful not to press the trigger. Not yet. We're not done yet.  
  
As soon as he sees the detonator, he stops laughing. "What the hell is that?"  
  
I smile. "It's my grenade. Well, sort of. It's a detonator. Do you want to know what it detonates?" I don't wait for him to answer. I sweep my right hand to indicate the crates lining the walls. The crates that completely surround us. "I've got a couple thousand gallons of gasoline in those crates. And a couple hundred pounds of C-4 and thermite. All wired to this detonator. The coffee and fish are to keep you from smelling the gas and explosives. The wooden crates are for shrapnel, though to tell the truth, I'm not sure any of it'll survive long enough to hit you. Doesn't much matter, I guess."  
  
I stop to give him a chance to respond. He's just looking at me, speechless. I sigh. "That's always been your problem, you dumb son of a bitch. You think small. Hell, even when you were trying to destroy the whole damned world, it was really just to get at Buffy. So now you want to kill me, and you find out that I've been holed up in a warehouse in the deserted section of the docks for a week. Does it ever occur to you that I might be up to something? Of course not. You come barging in here and you figure maybe I've got a grenade or something." I laugh, just because I can. Just because it feels good. "Willow named me her beneficiary for her life insurance. Did you know that? Of course you didn't. This," I say, as I sweep my hand around the room again, "is what a good-sized policy can buy these days, if you know the right people. And I know the right people."  
  
Well, Willy the Snitch knows the right people. But Angelus doesn't need to know that part. Not that it matters. It's not like he'd be able to do anything with the information anyway. I'm done talking. I stand there and wait for him to react.  
  
He doesn't run. I thought he'd run, but he doesn't. He stands there and he looks at me. The laughter is gone. There's nothing but hatred left. Hatred and fear. "You're going to die, too."  
  
I laugh again. "Of course I am, you stupid fuckwit! You just figured that out?"  
  
He growls. "So I win after all. You're going to take me with you, but you'll be dead. I win." He's trying to convince himself more than me.  
  
I shake my head sadly. "No. You lose. You're going to die. Me," I say, as I turn around to look at the pictures again. "Me, I'm going to go see the people I love."  
  
I can hear him running towards me, trying to get to me before it's too late.   
  
It's already too late.   
  
I just look at the pictures. I look at the people I'll see again in just a few seconds.   
  
And I push the button on the detonator.  
  
And I smile.  



End file.
